and your brother originally came to London from the Netherwell neighbourhood, in Derbyshire?"
"Well, what if we did?" demanded Thomas.
"You were young, I know, but not so young that you weren't familiar with the names of people and places thereabouts. Don't you remember a family near Netherwell of the name of Mortover?"
"Can't say that I do, now. No!"
"Your brother did!"
"Likely! John was that sort. Always crazed about the history of the old place—antiquary, d'you see. Pedigrees—genealogical stuff—old parchments—deeds—that sort of rubbish. He used to read about it at the British Museum and the Rolls office. Didn't interest me a bit, that—I'm a business man. He was interested in our birthplace, and in its people. I wasn't! But what if there is a family down there called Mortover—same name as this girl? What's that got to do with what happened to John!"
Wedgwood suddenly made up his mind.
"I'll tell you, Mr. Wraypoole!" he said, looking steadily at his visitor. "Your brother John was murdered because he'd come into possession of a secret relating to the Mortover family! He was—silenced!"
